I've Got No Strings
by JBethH
Summary: Crowley wants to kill Abaddon. He needs the First Blade...and he needs Dean Winchester. However, Dean has never really been motivated to work for Crowley's side...unless there's a price. So the King of Hell pulls a few strings and may just become the puppeteer behind Dean Winchester.
1. Prologue: From the Desk of the King

The King of Hell sighed, twisting the jawbone of some unknown animal in his hands. It was supposed to be the First Blade, the weapon that Cain used to kill his own brother, and Crowley was going to use it to get rid of his Abaddon problem.

Except there was one problem. Without the Mark of Cain the First Blade was just a useless jawbone, and that was where Dean Winchester came in. That damned mark had ended up on his skin, and Dean seemed as motivated to kill Abaddon as Crowley himself. But Dean Winchester had never worked with Crowley without some incentive. First there was the Colt, then Sammy's soul. Now,however, Crowley sat there empty handed.

And so Crowley sat, attempting to have an epiphany about one Dean Winchester. Growling in frustration, Crowley was tempted to simply break the blade in half. So he put the weapon down and turned to the clutter on his desk. He hurled books at the walls and even set a few individual sheets in a spontaneous flame. He watched them with a sick satisfaction.

Suddenly he saw it. He put out the flame switch a simple snap of his fingers. Slowly, almost hestiantly, the King of Hell picked up the half scorched paper. A partial title proclaimed it Inva. Crowley's eyes slowly scanned the list until he saw it. A death that had been his fault but he had never been given the blame for. A sickly sweet smile formed on his lips as he simply vanished from the room.


	2. Chapter One: Photographs

Dean Winchester enjoyed the shadows. He had been raised in them since he was four years old. He flourished in them, winning pool or poker games, wooing women, or hunting monsters. The shadows seemed to embrace Dean as one of their own, they were old friends who always seemed to find each other.

Dean stood in an old biker bar, in the embrace of his old friend, a pool stick in his hand. He watched as his burly, tattooed opponent took his shot and sunk several balls. Dean straightened as he realized it was his turn and took his position over the cue ball.

This pool game wasn't like the normal ones Dean usually played. It wasn't about getting money to keep himself and Sammy alive. No, this game was about getting drunk and forgetting all that had happened in the past few days. He and Sammy were constantly fighting, which was why he had left the bunker not long after the incident with Magnus. He didn't need Sammy to find the First Blade or Abaddon. All he needed was Crowley, and Crowley needed him too. For the first time in a long time Dean felt as though he had the upper hand against Crowley.

Dean lined the pool stick with the cue and took the shot. All of the remaining balls ran into the holes. The biker fished in his pocket for the money that he then handed over to Dean. Dean nodded his thanks and headed to the bar where he put the money down for a beer. The young bartender brought him his drink and leaned on the bar, staring at him.

"You should keep that money. Take your girlfriend somewhere nice," she smiled. Dean's green eyes slowly rose so they met the bartender's blue ones.

"Don't have a girlfriend," Dean told her, no emotion evident in his voice.

"Shame," she pouted, adjusting so her low cut top showed a little more cleavage. "You look like you know how to show a girl a good time."

Dean shook his head, his eyes retreating from hers. "Nah, I'm nothing but trouble."

A smile formed on the bartender's lips. "Still, trouble can be fun."

"Clara!" a biker yelled, catching the bartender's attention. Offering Dean a small apologetic smile, she turned to her other patrons and Dean watched her leave.

"Beautiful specimen," a British voice smiled as a newcomer appeared on a stool next to Dean, who rolled his eyes at the demon's entrance.

"Thought you weren't talking to me," Dean grumbled, raising the beer bottle to his lips.

"My boys haven't seen you lately."

Dean shrugged. "Don't care for babysitters."

Crowley glared at the hunter. "In case you haven't noticed, Squirrel, we are in this together."

"I'll find Abaddon, don't worry about it."

"Oh, but you see, Squirrel, I am. I don't think you're motivated enough." Dean's green eyes ticked to Crowley's face.

"I'm gonna kill Abaddon, and then I'm gonna kill you," Dean growled.

Crowley sighed dramatically. "Ah, yes, the brotherly vendetta against all things evil." Crowley looked around. "Where's our dear Moose?"

"At the bunker," Dean deadpanned, taking a sip of the beer.

"And your guardian angel?"

"In the wind," Dean replied, refusing to look at the demon and so continuing to stare at Clara, the bartender.

"Trouble in paradise, Squirrel?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't you be, I don't know, anywhere but here?"

"Temper, temper. I only came to talk."

"You've been talking for about five minutes."

"If you would stop interrupting me this would take less of your precious time!" Dean glared at the King of Hell and crossed his arms, leaning against the bar. He inclined his eyebrows showing the demon that he was ready to listen.

"I ran into a friend of yours a while ago. Unfortunately we weren't able to chitchat long, but she did want me to give you this." Crowley dug in his overcoat before pulling out a small slip of paper and placing it in front of Dean.

He was surprised to see it wasn't paper but an old photograph. It was black and white but the image was clear to make out, of course Dean knew it by heart, but this was not the photograph in its entirety. He stood in the photo, a grim expression across his face. He didn't want to come across scared or anxious or any of the other emotions going through him at the time. So instead he looked indifferent.

Dean had his arm draped over a young woman. A blonde twenty-something who had her whole life ahead of her. Instead of Dean's indifference, her brown eyes held a dim sparkle, as though she believed that they would all survive.

The photo had haunted Dean, who knew he had gotten rid of it long ago.

"How-" He turned to face Crowley, but the demon had vanished.


	3. Chapter Two: Nightmares

Screaming echoed in her ears. A minute or so passed before she realized it was from her own throat. Although her eyes were screwed shut, she found no relief in the darkness. Flames licked at her bare feet, occasionally scorching her toes, turning them brown. Whips caressed the rest of her naked body, leaving sore open wounds that would never heal.

There was blood everywhere. On the floors, on the walls, on the tools, on her, even on her torturer. Her heart never stopped no matter how many veins they opened. It kept bleeding, causing a continuous drip. Finally after what felt like an eternity, they stopped. The flames were gone, the whips were dropped, and the demon who was beating her took her off of the meat hooks that held her before dragging her to her cell.

It was a cycle they enjoyed, beating her until she couldn't stand before the physiological torture began.

The cell was simple, no bed, no chairs, just three walks, one barred door, and chains. The demon threw her in, not even bothering to chain her. After all, where was she going to run?

Crawling to the nearest wall, she pressed her burning back to the cool metal. A small sigh escaped her.

"Hello, love," a British voice smiled. Looking up, she was surprised to see the King of Hell outside her cell.

"What are you doing here?" she growled. It had been nearly fifty years since she had seen the King, her King.

"I missed my favorite hunter," Crowley smiled. Then he was in her cell, right in front of her, stroking her cheek. "After all, it's been so long, darling."

"No," she growled as he came closer. She had refused him, she had said no, and she had been put back on the rack. This was supposed to be over.

"Don't worry, love," he whispered, his breath warming her already scorched neck. "I'm saving you for someone else."

XXXX

Dean was running faster than he ever believed possible. Behind him came the growls and barks of Hellhounds. He was right behind Jo Harvelle, protecting her in a sense.

_Better me than her_, he though.

He felt claws wrap around his denim clad leg and get pulled out from under him.

"Dean!" Jo yelled, turning around in time to see him hit the concrete. She loaded her shotgun.

"No, stay back," Dean barked.

_Better me than her._

_Better me than her._

She didn't listen to him, and fired at the Hellhound that stood over him. Dean ducked, trying to stay out of her way. She approached, losing sight of her surroundings, but Dean didn't.

The hound came out of nowhere and too fast. No one saw it, until Jo was down. Ellen Harvelle was yelling, but Jo's screams raged over all other sounds. Dean was on his feet instantly, running for Jo. When he finally reached her, his heart stopped. The Hellhounds and chaos fell away. Silence took over.

Blood had already soaked her shirt and was beginning to be absorbed by her jeans. Her brown eyes stared at him dazed.

"Dean," she whimpered, her hand pressed against her torn side. Dean kneeled net to her, and pulled her to him.

"Sh," he whispered. "It's gonna be okay, Jo."

She shook her head and her honey curls bounced at the movement.

"This is all your fault, Dean. I could have had a life, a family, a future! You took all of that from me."

"Jo, I was just trying to protect you."

"I loved you," she sobbed. "But what good did it do?"

"Jo, I'm so sorry." Dean's fingers traced down her face, following her tears.

"Liar," she growled. Dean watched in horror as her soft brown eyes turned a deep ink black. Jo grabbed the demon knife from Dean's waistband and smiled wickedly. "See you down there, baby."

_XXXX_

Dean woke up with a gasp, his blood pounding in his ears.

_Nightmare_, he told himself. _It was just a nightmare. _Breathing deeply, he reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. The small light bathed the corner of the empty motel room, but Dean's eyes were captured by the photograph Crowley gave him.

Jo Harvelle stared up at him, her eyes a normal brown.

"Damn it, Jo," Dean muttered, picking up the photo. "What happened to you?"


	4. Chapter Three: Let's Make a Deal

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to DMRA, the best friend I could have asked for. Sorry this took so long. School got in the way. Anyway here's chapter three! Please leave reviews. At this point flames are even welcomed.**

Dean couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, her face appeared. He had tried to get answers. He had failed to summon Crowley so instead he had sliced through three crossroad demons. He had even prayed to Castiel, but didn't receive an answer. So Dean Winchester was restless.

_Am I going to see you again?_

Her voice rang in his ears with a ferocity that he hadn't seen since her death…and then the Osiris incident. Dean had never told Sam about her later visit but then again Sam knew not to bring her name into a conversation. Jo simply became another dark secret between the brothers. Now, though, Dean needed help. He took out his phone and dialed. He was surprised when the other line picked up after only three rings.

"Hello?" Sam yawned, obviously woken up by his brother's phone call.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean smiled.

"Dean? Where the hell have you been?"

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't matter now. I need your help."

"Did you find a case?"

"Somethin' like that. I need you to do some digging in the bunker. See if you can find anything about demons taking people out of Heaven."

"Dean," Sam sighed, "what's this about?"

"I told you. It's about a case."

"Dean-"

"Call me when you've got something," Dean snapped before cutting off the call. Sighing, he considered trying to sleep again when there was a knock at the motel room door. Grabbing a gun off of the bedside table, Dean looked through the peep-hole and groaned.

"What do you want?" he demanded, throwing open the door. The King of Hell smiled up at him, even though the hunter still held his gun.

"I came with a proposition," the demon informed him, stepping past the hunter in the motel room.

"Not interested," Dean growled, going to the fridge to get a beer.

"Oh, but I think you are. You want answers and I have them. So you're going to listen." Dean glared at the demon, challenging him to reveal Dean's secret worry.

"I can help you find her," Crowley told him simply.

"And what's in it for you?" Dean demanded, taking a quick chug of his beer.

"You need training, Squirrel. You can only hold the Blade for a few seconds until you lose it. You need to be in control, Squirrel."

The gears in Dean's head clicked together. "So I train with you and you help me find her?"

"That is what I just told you. Try and keep up, Squirrel."

Dean sighed and silently prayed that she'd understand.

"Fine, I'll do it."

A smile blossomed across Crowley's face. "Excellent."

"You're not gonna kiss me, are you?" Dean demanded.

Crowley shook his head. "A handshake should suffice." They shook hands and the deal was done. "I'll see you bright and early, Squirrel."

**A/N: So this was a long time coming. Hopefully you will have an update at least once a week. Again this chapter was dedicated to DMRA! Please review! (Again I will accept flames at this point. I'M DESPERATE!)**


	5. Chapter Four: To Recap

**A/N: Thanks so much to DMRA, Eddieizzie, and . . for their continued support. Also welcome to Jenn, curraheegirl, jo-zabby, and my 2 guests. I really appreciate the wonderful reviews (luckily no one flamed me). This chapter is dedicated to all of you. **

She came to in a room that she didn't recognize. Wide windows allowed sunlight to light the otherwise dark room with black tile paneling on the walls and a maroon carpet on the floor. Sitting up, she felt the bouncy softness of a bed, something she hadn't felt in nearly two hundred and forty years. A small moan escaped her at the comfort of the bed.

"I remember when I used to cause those little sounds of yours," a voice near the door smiled. Her eyes ticked to the newcomer and a mix of anger and fear filled her. She scrambled back into the pillows until the headboard stopped her.

"Stay away from me," she growled, sounding like a cornered tigress. Ignoring her threat, the King walked around the side of her bed which sent her scrambling away from him.

"How are you feeling, love? Any bumps or bruises? I must say you're much easier to raise than those damn Winchester boys, a little more tame." His words made a shiver go down her spine and shake through her body. It drew his attention. "Oh, silly me," the demon smiled. He snapped his fingers and a pile of clothes appeared at the end of the bed. She eyed them curiously, but didn't dare move. "They're yours, darling. You should get comfortable because you're going to be here a while. It'll be just like old times. Brooke is supposed to serve your every whim, but don't think she won't report to me."

He left her huddled on the bed and went to the door. Opening it, he stepped forward as if to go through than stopped himself.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, love."

_XXXX_

Abaddon couldn't stop pacing her office. She was anxious. Crowley had made a move in months, and her spies hadn't had any sign of him. This was supposed to be easy! Frustration built up and Abaddon flipped her desk over, screaming in rage. Her shoulders heaved with her breathing and she began to kick at the piece of furniture.

She was still rampaging when a new assistant hesitantly knocked on the door. The Queen turned on the young demon, her eyes dead black.

"What?" she growled, stalking toward the intern.

"Crowley has been spotted in Hell, my queen," the demon whimpered. This did little to calm Abaddon.

"Hell is still his domain, you ignorant little slut!" Abaddon roared, making the assistant shrink back in fear.

"B-but he took a soul." This stalled Abaddon in her tracks.

"What?"

"H-he raised a young woman. We don't know what for, however." A loud cackle escaped Abaddon. She began to laugh so hard she had to pause for a huge intake of air.

"Find out who she is," Abaddon ordered, once she had her breath back. "And find out who she is to Crowley."

_XXXX_

Dean woke up in a room that was not the cheap motel room he had fallen asleep in. Instead of the tacky cabin theme, the room had a modern look with wide windows and tile on the walls. Getting out of the bed, Dean's bare feet brushed over the carpeted floor. Before Dean could push off the bed, however, the bedroom door burst pen and Crowley entered, followed by a young girl.

"Isn't it a beautiful morning?" Crowley smiled as the young girl threw back the curtains that covered the windows. Dean stared at Crowley, clearly confused, but the demon didn't feel like clearing up the details. "You sleep like a rock, Squirrel. Did Moose ever complain about your snoring?"

"What the hell is going on, Crowley?" Dean demanded, ignoring Crowley's comment.

"I'm not going to leave my great hero out in the open where Little Red can find him," Crowley informed him, approaching the window and ignoring the hunter.

"Still, kidnapping?" Dean demanded. "That's a little low for you." Crowley ignored the jab and turned to the small demon.

"Katrina, please make sure the arena is ready for Mr. Winchester." The demon nodded and took her leave. When the door clicked closed behind her, Crowley turned to Dean.

"You'd do good to remember you're not in charge anymore." Crowley turned from Dean and went to the door. "I'll see you down in the arena in ten minutes. Welcome back to Hell, Dean."

_XXX_

Sam Winchester was beyond pissed. The young hunter sat in the middle of the Men of Letter's library with any book the mentioned the words _demon_ and _Heaven_ in front of him. Yawning, he dragged a hand down his face as his vision began to blur.

The door to the bunker creaked open and Sam jumped to his feet.

"Dean?" he called, silently praying his brother had returned. Sam knew their relationship was on the rocks, but it wasn't like Dean to at least check in.

"Sam?" a gruff voice answered, followed by the appearance of Castiel at the bottom of the stairs.

"Cas," Sam sighed, happy to see the angel but disappointed it wasn't his brother.

"Sam, where is Dean?" Cas demanded, stepping into the library.

Sam found himself adverting the angel's gaze.

"I don't know," he murmured. Castiel stepped toward the younger Winchester.

"Why do I feel as though you are keeping something from me?" Sam's eyes ticked to Castiel's

"He's an idiot," Sam growled, turning on his heel to go toward the kitchen. This was going to need beer, lots and lots of beer.

**A/N: So Sammy officially enters our story along with Cas and Abaddon. Hopefully I will continue to update at least once a week for a while. Those of you who wanted a longer chapter, I hope you aren't disappointed. **

**Just some quick clarification Dean and our mystery girl *wink, wink* are in a compound located somewhere on Earth. Crowley's reference to Hell is basically what he's gonna put Dean through with this training.**

**Thanks so much for reading and please drop me a review. They make my day! Until next time, Jo! 3**


	6. Chapter Five: Pompeii

**A/N: It's ALIVE! Bet you all thought I was dead. Unfortunately, I was kept away by the stomach flu, severe writer's block, and that shocking season finale. (Anyone else needing October a little sooner?) Anywho, welcome to Thynker, AHChidemebabe, whack sparrow, littlenightbirdy, Amber611, and snowy scarf. Also thanks to my other constant reviewers such as Dean's Worshipper, jo-zabby, Eddieizzie, Jenn, and as always DMRA. Now! On with the show!**

Cas had gone through a six pack by himself while Sam just stared at the angel, waiting for the rage to come. He had told Cas everything. Abbadon, Cain, the First Blade, the Mark…everything. When the angel finished his sixth beer, he sighed.

"Has Dean been acting strange?" Cas demanded, contemplating going for a seventh beer. Sam thought over the last few weeks. The inexplicable anger, the bloodlust, the drinking. Sam nodded.

"Dammit, Sam! Why didn't you tell me?" Sam was surprised to find he didn't have a good answer. "Has Dean given any clue to where he could be? He shouldn't be without supervision."

Sam shook his head. "He said he was on a hunt. But he did ask me…Cas, can demons take people out of Heaven?"

The angel's frown deepened. "No demon would ever be allowed to trouble a resting soul in Heaven, especially since the angels have been cast out."

Sam frowned. "Dean sounded worried…almost like it was someone he feared…I haven't heard him like that since…" Realization smacked the younger Winchester in the face. "I know who it is."

_XXXX_

Her legs pounded against the pavement. The snarls of the hellhounds were amplified in her ears. She was just behind her mom with Dean behind her. She heard him grunt and turned to see him hit the ground.

"Dean!" she yelled, aiming her gun in the general direction of the hellhound.

"No, stay back," he begged, but she didn't listen. Instead she charged forward, firing. She was so focused on Dean she didn't see the hellhound until it had taken her down. Her mother was yelling, Dean was yelling, she was screaming. Dean ran and scooped her up, holding her close to him. Her fingers curled into his shirt as her eyelids flickered.

"Dean," she whimpered, her head suddenly seeming too heavy for her neck. All the noise around the couple gave way to silence as the sky turned black.

He shook his head. "It's gonna be okay," he told her. "_You're _gonna be okay." He held her in his arms while she held in her guts. It was a situation she had relived nearly two hundred times. She knew exactly what happened next.

"Dean," she huffed, feeling the blood leaking into her lungs, "you have to get out of here."

He shook his head again. "No. I'm not leaving you." From somewhere in the distance came a long sad howl.

"Please," she breathed. The snarls of the hellhounds came closer. "Please, Dean just go." Tears ran down her face. She didn't care if she died. She had done it many times before, sometimes at his own hands.

Suddenly it was there, making her blood run cold. Turning her head, she saw the large black dog with her blood on its claws.

"Go," she whispered, her eyes locking on the hellhound. He followed her gaze, pulling the demon knife out of his waist band. Without warning, the hound charged, jumping over her and taking down Dean. She tried to scream but all that came out were pathetic gurgles. Her breathing increased but none of the air made it to her lungs.

Even as her eyes were closing, she couldn't take them off Dean as he was ripped apart.

_XXXX_

Dean stood in the middle of the arena, the Mark of Cain lightly burning his skin so that it felt as though he had been stung by a wasp. Not being able to resist the urge, Dean began to lightly scratch at the Mark.

"Don't scratch that!" Crowley barked. Dean rolled his eyes, ignoring the demon and continuing to scratch. Crowley sighed and joined Dean in the boxing ring that stood in the middle of the arena. Dean was surprised that Crowley was not wearing his usual suit but instead an expensive track suit. In his right hand was the First Blade, and as he got closer to Dean the brighter the Mark glowed. As the Mark grew brighter so did the burn it emitted and Dean's eyes widened when he saw his veins beginning to turn black.

His green eyes flickered from the Mark to the Blade. The burn traveled up his arm into Dean's chest until it felt like a hand was squeezing his heart and lungs.

_**Go on**_, a small voice urged him, _**take it. The pain will go away if you take it.**_

__But Dean knew that was a lie. Once he held the Blade the pain would go away, but the voice would get stronger. The voice would encourage him to do things…like kill Magnus. He told himself that he was protecting Sammy, but the voice wouldn't let him drop the Blade. Deep down Dean feared the voice, knew it would turn him into a monster.

Crowley saw Dean's intense gaze on the Blade and smiled.

"It's like a drug, isn't it?" Crowley twisted the Blade in his hands. "You have to work for your fix." With a snap of his fingers the Blade moved from Crowley's hand to a pedestal at the other end of the room. Without a true thought, Dean stepped forward and saw the shadows of the room move. Cautiously, Dean's eyes watched a figure shift in the shadows. It was smaller than himself, and the swaying at the knees told him it was wearing a dress.

Not taking his eyes off the figure, Dean took another step forward and the figure mirrored his movement. Turning, Dean stared at Crowley, trying to figure out his game. The demon smiled and nodded, encouraging Dean.

Dean continued, jumping out of the boxing ring but he found his progress stopped by the figure from the shadows.

"Dean," a young woman smiled. Her blonde waves tumbled down her shoulders, framing her bright green eyes. She wore a simple white nightgown that ended just past her knees. She was barefoot so that Dean saw the dark nail polish on her toes. She stepped up to Dean, smiling.

Dean felt his jaw drop.

"Mom?"

**A/N: So it is now the dreaded final time so the next chapter should be up in the next week or two. Sorry for the long delay with this chapter. Also a head's up, I recently received John Winchester's Journal by Alex Irvine, who I believe does the series justice in his two books. I will be using excerpts from that book later on in the story. Just a head's up. I will remind you when I publish those chapters. Until next time, Jo.**


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